


Their First Adventure

by BadBadBucky



Category: The Mighty Boosh (TV)
Genre: Kid Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-14
Updated: 2020-12-14
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:47:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28073445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BadBadBucky/pseuds/BadBadBucky
Summary: This is the adventure that started it all. Vince and Howard's very first adventure together. There is an evil Candy Queen in town stealing kids and it is up to Howard and Vince to stop her, and perhaps become friends along the way.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 6
Collections: Boosh Secret Santa 2020!





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [QueenBoo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenBoo/gifts).



> This was written for QueenBoo's prompt: The First Time
> 
> This is Howard and Vince's very first adventure together.
> 
> Hope you like it!

It was a crisp fall day, and Howard Moon was walking home from school alone, just like always. Even though several children had gone missing recently, and the school insisted all children use the buddy system, Howard did not have--nor want--a buddy. He was a serious man, too serious to need anything as silly and childish as friends. He’d gotten along just fine the first 14 years of his life without a friend and he was certain that he would get along just fine the next 14 years without them as well. And what did friends do for you anyway? Get you into trouble, laugh when you do something embarrassing, mooch money off you when they’re broke, that’s what.

Howard wasn’t one of these ridiculous people, like Vince Noir, who needed to be surrounded by adoring fans every moment of every day or else he’d wither and die. Vince Noir, with his stupid hair and his bush baby eyes and his shiny lips, with his constant chittering, punctuated with screeches of laughter, was a distraction--an annoyance--certainly not friend material. No sir, Howard Moon was perfectly fine, thanks. 

Howard kicked at a few leaves and watched as the wind picked them up and swirled them about. But a few leaves stuck resolutely to the pavement. He nudged at the stubborn leaves with his shoe, but they remained stuck, and he could feel his shoe sticking as well. Howard figured it was probably just some gum and walked on.

But then a few steps down the road he came across another sticky spot. And this one was in the shape of a footprint. Howard looked and saw that there was actually a trail of sticky multicolored footprints. Howard unzipped his bag and pulled out his trusty pencil case, with Soulsucker Jones and the Demon 3 on the front, that he’d decorated himself. Inside the case was a souvenir letter opener Howard had purchased on a recent sojourn to Wakefield. He used the letter opener to prod at the sticky footprint. It was still a bit soft.

Fascinated, Howard scraped a bit of the footprint off the sidewalk. Whatever the footprint was made of, it stretched a bit before finally separating. Howard examined the material up close, but could derive no useful intel. So he sniffed the material. It smelled sweet and somehow...familiar.

A few nights ago, Howard had watched a police procedural on telly where the detective was in the habit of tasting things he couldn’t identify. At the time, Howard had thought this very stupid and ridiculously unhygenic, but now he understood the impulse. Curiosity overwhelmed him--and he was a man of action wasn’t he?--so he stuck out his tongue and licked a bit of the material. It  _ was  _ sweet. In fact--he tasted it again--it tasted like taffy. How strange.

***

Vince tried to keep his smile up, but he could tell it was starting to flag. He’d been trying to tell a few mates about a well cool dream he’d had last night where he had frozen legs and monkey hands, but they’d only been interested in hearing the story of how he’d met Iggy Pop when he’d attended an awards show with Bryan, before Bryan had dumped Vince with his uncle at the boxing gym, two months ago. That seemed to be all his new mates cared about, all the celebrities he met, all of the clothes he wore. He had to admit that his clothes were well genius, and it was pretty cool that he’d gotten to meet so many amazing musicians because of Bryan, but sometimes he thought all his new mates never actually listened to what he said. It was a very lonely thought.

“Hey,” he said, taking a different tack, since the monkey hands dream had fallen so flat, “did any a’ you see them footprints?” 

Vince had been walking back to the boxing gym after school when he first noticed them a week ago, and he’d seen them all over town since then. 

His mates ignored this question and asked if they could touch his hair, which had blue and purple streaks through the dirty blonde and was ratted to high heaven. “Quickly,” he told them, sighing. Vince loved hair more than just about anyone, but he wished there was someone who might want to go on an adventure, or talk about the new hot gossip amongst the mice that lived in the laundry basket at the gym, or start a band. 

Vince could at least take solace in the fact that while he might be a bit lonely, at least he wasn’t actually alone, like Howard Moon. The gangly boy who always looked so serious with his old beat up briefcase and his too large tweed jacket, like at fourteen he was already a professor at some boring university. Howard was always alone. As far as Vince could tell, he didn’t have any friends. Sometimes, Vince found himself staring at Howard, like when Howard delivered an answer in class that was so long and rambling that eventually the teacher had to cut him off to regain control of the class. He wondered if Howard ever got lonely. 

Once his mates were done touching his hair, Vince told them that he had to go to the gym, he uncle was making him wipe down all the mats. They all scattered pretty quickly after that, he’d already managed to trick them into helping him untangle Jimmy the Reach when his arms got caught in a skipping rope, now they wouldn’t get within a city block of the old gym. And so Vince was left to walk home on his own.

Vince sang quietly to himself as he walked,  _ Jean Genie  _ by David Bowie, and he danced a bit as well. Singing always made the walk go by faster. He was singing  _ Start Me Up  _ and doing his best Mick impression, when he heard footsteps behind him. Vince had a pretty well trained ear; Jahooli had trained him up so he was quite difficult to sneak up on. He paused, and the footsteps stopped as well. He started walking again and the sound of steps followed him again. But when he turned around, there was no one there. Though there was a trail of bright pink footprints leading down the walk. They stopped a few meters from where Vince stood, and they definitely had not been there before. 

“Hello?” Vince called out. “Are you following me?”

There was no answer. 

“You can come out if you like!” Vince said, raising his voice slightly, but still trying to sound friendly. Maybe whoever was following him was scared. 

But still, there was no answer. Vince shrugged and started walking again. 

At first, it sounded like he’d scared off whoever had been following him, as there were no following footsteps. But suddenly, the footsteps were very close, very fast, and coming straight for him. Vince barely had time to break into a run before pink sticky tendrils ensnared his ankle and yanked him to the ground. 


	2. Chapter 2

Not that Howard cared, but Vince Noir was absent from school the next day. Not that Howard was listening, but some of Vince’s mates were whispering that he’d run away, back to the jungle, back to his glamourous rockstar life. Not that Howard noticed, but school seemed a lot quieter without Vince’s excited chatter. 

It was strange, the classrooms at the small school were looking more and more empty with all the missing kids. And on the walk home after, for the first time, Howard regretted not having a friend to walk with. The wind swirled around Howard, encasing him in a funnel of leaves as he made his way down the street. He had to squint his already tiny eyes in order to make sure no particles or detritus flew into them--eye safety was very important to Howard--and he could barely see the sidewalk.

Up ahead, he thought he saw a very large woman wearing a pink muumuu, though she also seemed to sport a black walrus mustache and a black fedora. It was an odd choice, and honestly, Howard could not understand why people could not be satisfied with a nice rollneck or jacket, but he’d given up on policing other people’s fashion choices after Vince Noir had told him to get stuffed when Howard had informed him that his shoes clashed with his bedazzled t-shirt. 

The woman shuffled toward him, and her footsteps sounded strange. Squelchy. 

The wind died down and Howard realized the woman coming toward him was actually not a woman at all, but some sort of gorgon made from chewed up bubblegum. Howard let out a loud shriek and promptly tripped over his own feet as he tried to run away.

Howard crawled away as the creature moved implacably forward. “Don’t kill me, I’ve got so much to give,” Howard sobbed. 

“Gimme your hand,” a voice in front of him yelled.

“What?” Howard asked, looking up. He couldn’t tell who was standing over him, the late afternoon sun blotted out their face.

“Come on Howard, gimme your hand,” the voice said. 

And the voice sounded familiar, so Howard held out his hand and the figure hauled him to his feet and then started running, dragging Howard behind him.

Once the sun wasn’t blaring in Howard’s eyes, he realized who had rescued him. “Vince!”

“Come on ya jack a clubs, keep movin’,” Vince said. He threw a glance over his shoulder and Howard saw that there were large globs of gum stuck all over Vince’s hair. 

***

Vince zigged and zagged through town, running down alleyways, dragging Howard over fences and through gardens. Finally, he was fairly certain he’d successfully lost the great bubblegum berk. He heaved a great sigh of relief and slowed to a walk as they emerged from someone’s hedge back onto the street. He let go of Howard’s hand and jammed his hands in the pockets of his school uniform jacket with the hundreds of badges that were constantly falling off, then adopted a cool saunter as if he were not even remotely “bovvered”. 

It took immense force of will for Vince to keep his fingers from wandering up to his hair, to assess the damage of what that candy-coated bitch had done to him. He could feel strands of his hair sticking straight up in the air. He could feel gum hanging in great gobbets off the back of his head. He did not acknowledge what would happen if he failed to get the gum out of his hair, it was unthinkable, he banished the possibility from his mind. And he kept walking down the street. 

Howard didn’t follow. 

“Howard. He might still be out there, we better keep movin’,” Vince said. He turned around and walked back toward the taller boy. 

“No. I will not. Not until you explain to me, just what exactly is going on,” Howard said. His face was bright red. 

Howard had chosen a great time to turn back into a fusspot. 

Instead of answering Howard’s question, Vince asked one of his own. “Do you live round ‘ere?” 

“I don’t see what business that is of yours,” Howard spluttered.

“Cos we need some place to hide out,” Vince said. “I thought you was supposed to be smart.”

“You’re not comin’ to my house,” Howard said.

Vince gaped at him. “Wot?”

“You’re not coming to my house,” Howard repeated. “I haven’t cleared it with my mother, it’s not on the schedule--”

“I jus’ saved you from a bubblegum monster, an’ this is the thanks I get?” Vince yelled, his accent even more prominent than usual. He marched forward and jabbed a finger in Howard’s chest. Howard was nearly a whole head taller, but he shrank in the face of Vince’s righteous anger. “These is special bleedin’ circumstances.” Vince shook his head in disgust. “Talk about ungrateful. I shoulda jus’ let ‘im take ya. Good luck gettin’ ‘ome.” He jabbed his finger into Howard’s chest one last time. “Laters.” Then he stomped off.

***

Howard shifted from foot to foot as he watched Vince get further and further away. It was starting to get dark. The wind picked up again. Swirling the leaves all around him. Pretty soon, Vince would disappear from view. Pretty soon, he’d be all alone, just like before. All alone. Easy pickings. For the monster. 

A twig snapped behind Howard and he let out a shriek. “Vince wait!” He took off running and caught up with Vince. 

Vince chewed on his lips in a way that was infuriating for two very different reasons, one sort of pleasant, the other, rage inducing. He glanced at Howard. “Change your mind?” he asked innocently.

“We’ve got a bit of a walk,” Howard said. He’d finally recognized a street name and knew how to get home. 

“I don’ mind,” Vince said. 

They walked in silence… for approximately two minutes. Then, the same inane chatter that filled Howard’s ears all day at school once again poured from Vince’s lips, at twice the normal clip, as if he was making up for lost time. And instead of talking about something useful, like what had just happened, where the gum monster was, or how he’d gotten all that gum in his hair, Vince was talking about Gary Numan. 

Howard interrupted Vince’s breakdown of Gary Numan’s top five best springtime casual looks. “Vince. What’s going on? What just happened?”

Vince shrugged. “Dunno. So then in 1985, it all came together when Gary started tyin’ his tie in a windsor knot.” Vince grinned at Howard expectantly, as if he thought Howard would immediately grasp the vast implications of Gary Numan tying his tie in a slightly different way.

“What do you mean you don’t know?” Howard asked. 

Vince glanced at him. “I said I dunno, I was walkin’ ‘ome last night, and this geezer made outta bubblegum snatched me up. Dragged me to this tunnel, yeah? That was all made outta sweets. Like the whole thing was held up by these massive peppermint sticks. And there was a swamp wiv’ all these gummi worms and toads, and then he threw me in a cage with a giant Haribo bear. At first I was a bit scared, but we clicked basically right off. He tol’ me that he used to be a real bear, but the sweetpeople turned him into a Haribo. An’ then-”

“What, so the bear just...told you this. In English?” Howard asked.

“No, course not,” Vince said. “‘E told me in bear.”

“Oh and you speak bear do you?” Howard said. He did nothing to hide the skepticism in his voice. 

“Yeah,” Vince said, smiling widely at him. He’d either missed the sarcasm or elected to ignore it (in actuality he’d gotten so good at electing to ignore sarcasm that most of the time he did genuinely miss it). 

“Yeah? Just yeah?” Howard said.

“Yeah. I can talk to animals. I mean mostly I stick to monkeys and small rodents, but this bloke was alright. We chatted for a few hours. Then the bubblegeezer came back and he dragged me down another long tunnel, and this one had candyfloss spiderwebs all over, and I looked down and all the dirt was hundreds and thousands. Then the tunnel opened back up, and it was this throne room. And there was a throne made out of rainbow lollies and Curly Wurlys. And there was this woman, the Candy Queen. And she looked well posh. Her dress was made out of licorice allsorts, looked well mod. An’ I’m pretty sure her crown was made outta polo mints….” Vince trailed off, staring into the distance as he walked. 

“And?” Howard prompted. “What happened next?” 

“And that’s another story for another time,” Vince said. 

“What? Finish the story,” Howard said. “What happened after that?”

“Look,” Vince said, “that’s the end of that saga.” 

“Look, this isn’t kiddie corner at the library,” Howard said. “I need to know what happened.” He grabbed Vince by the shoulders and shook him. 

“Alright!” Vince screeched. “Cool ya boots, I’ll tell ya. Just know that it goes against all my instincts as a storyteller.”

“Instincts as a storyteller? Who’re you, Virgil?” Howard said.

“No, my name is Vince--” Vince looked at Howard as if he were an idiot, “--we been going to school together the last two months?” 

“Just tell me what happened next,” Howard said as he resisted the urge to scream in frustration. 

*******

The Queen told Vince that she was building an army and that she’d been kidnapping children and turning them into her sweet-soldiers. And he was next. 

Vince told Howard how he’d perhaps gotten a bit lippy with the queen, and she’d ordered his captor, the bubblegum berk, to put gum in his hair. Vince got a bit upset at that point in the story, as he again resisted the urge to yank at the gum in his hair. He kept his gaze straight ahead as they walked and was thankful that the darkness hid the shininess in his eyes. He knew it was stupid to get so worked up about his hair, but his hair was the only thing about his appearance that he really liked. He did what he could with his bushbaby eyes and weird flat nose and chicken drummer legs, but it took a lot of work and his hair was still there when the makeup got washed off and the clothes were left on the floor of his tiny little bedroom in his uncle’s dingy flat above the gym. 

Vince continued his story and if there was a bit of wobble in his voice then it was just because he was out of breath from running away from the bubblegum berk.

“So after that, the bubbleberk threw me back in the cage with the Haribo Bear, and the bear said he didn’t want me to get turned into a Sour Patch Kid or something, cos he liked me so much, and so he just went full rambo, tied my school tie around his head and just judo chopped the bars apart, an’ then he told me to run, an’ that he’d hold ‘em off. So I ran, and ran, and ran until I saw daylight. I’d been stuck in there all night and most of the day! I was headin’ home when I saw that same bleedin’ bubbleberk trying to take you, and then I saved your life. You’re welcome,” Vince said, without once pausing to take a breath. 

“Are you alright?” Howard asked. And the softness in his voice almost tricked Vince into telling the truth.

Almost.

“Wot? Yeah,” Vince said. He pasted on a wide grin. “Course, I’m Vince Noir, Rock n Roll Star. I’m always alright.”

The way Howard gazed at him, with his mouth set in a hard little line, with his eyebrow cocked, Vince knew that Howard didn’t believe him. Vince didn’t know the last time he’d met someone he couldn’t lie to. 

They finally arrived in front of Howard’s house. Howard turned to him. “Now just wait here, I’ve just got to clear it with my mother, going to have a bit of explaining to do. And it will go better if you aren’t there mucking ab--helping.”

Vince pouted. “Fine.” He sat on the front step while Howard went inside. 

A few moments later, Vince heard screeching from inside the house. “And you just left him out there?!” It was a woman’s voice.

The door flew open and light spilled onto the front step.

“Come in, come in, come in,” the woman’s voice said. 

Vince looked up and saw a woman sure to be Howard’s mother. She had the same chestnut brown curls, though hers tumbled down to her shoulders. She was a big boned friendly woman with a thick northern accent. 

Howard’s house was an ocean of cheerful clutter. There were stacks of books everywhere along with knick knacks, dishes, and animals. There were two cats lying on the windowsill and one gigantic dog ran by, chased by two other smaller--though not much smaller--dogs who nearly took Vince out at the knees. 

“Ohhh to think Howie finally brought home a friend,” Howard’s mother said. 

“He’s not my friend. We’re colleagues,” Howard said. 

Howard’s mum smiled at him. “Oh Howie, you’re so funny about these things.”

“Howard, mother, not Howie, I’ve told you 8,000 times, it’s Howard.” Howard darted a glance at Vince to see how all this was landing. Vince just looked back at him innocently. Howard ground his teeth and gestured toward Vince. “This is Vince Noir.”

Vince put on his most charming grin, parents loved him, just like everyone else. “Pleasure to meet you Mrs. Moon.” He stuck out his hand to shake.

Howard’s mum pressed her hand over her heart. “Aren’t you the sweetest thing? Please, call me Gerda.” She shook Vince’s hand. Then she leaned over and whispered in Howard’s ear, “she’s so pretty, Howie.”

“Mum!” Howard looked nearly ready to die of embarrassment.

But Vince just smiled. He thought it might be kind of nice...to be embarrassed by your mum. 

“We’ve got work to do,” Howard said. He pulled Vince toward the stairs.

“Does Vince want to stay for dinner?” Gerda asked.

“No, mum he’s--” Howard began.

“That would be genius!” Vince said. 

***

Howard honestly wasn’t sure who he wanted to throttle more, his mother, or Vince. Howard tugged Vince toward the stairs, but Howard’s mother wasn’t going to let him escape that easily. 

“What happened to your hair darling?” Gerda said, she prodded at one of the great wads of gum stuck in Vince’s hair.

“Bit a’ bad luck, nothin’ a bit of mayonnaise won’t handle,” Vince said. 

“Sweetheart...that’s not going to work,” Gerda said.

Vince yanked his head back, pulling his hair free from her fingers. His voice took on a high pitched panicked tone. “Course it will.” 

It was obvious to Howard, his mother, and the world at large that it was not going to work. There was too much. And it was really squashed into his hair.

“I’m afraid it’s going to have to be cut out, my dear,” Gerda said.

Vince’s hands flew up to his head. “No!”

“I can do it here, if you like, get it over with,” Gerda said. She took a step toward Vince.

Vince backed away, shaking his head. As she came forward, Vince shrank into the corner like a little mouse. 

“You don’t want it getting any worse,” Gerda murmured. 

Vince tried to paint on a charming smile, but it kept wilting at the edges. “I-it’s fine. I’ll make a feature of it. Bubblegum hair, just you wait, it’ll be a-all the rage at school tomorrow. Won’t it, Howard?” He looked desperately to Howard for confirmation. 

“The other children do seem to flock around him like sheep,” Howard grumbled. 

“Sweetie, we can do it now, or your mum can do it when you get home,” Gerda said. 

Vince’s eyes filled with tears. Oh, dear, that must have struck a nerve. Vince lived with his uncle. And before that, he’d apparently lived in the jungle. He had no mum to cut the gum out of his hair. Howard decided a quick exit would be best. 

“Look mum, we’ll deal with it later, Vince and I have things to talk about. We’ll be back down in a bit.” Howard finally succeeded in pulling Vince up the stairs. 

Howard led Vince down the hallway to his room. Howard kicked off his shoes outside the door. He gestured for Vince to kick off his shoes as well, half expecting Vince to protest for some absurd reason, since Vince really did not like to take off his high heeled boots, he even wore them during phys ed, he’d rolled his ankle 8 times, and endured the games teacher screaming at him, but he didn’t budge. Vince could be very stubborn in his own strange way. But, to Howard’s surprise, Vince kicked off his boots with no comment, revealing colorful mismatched socks. Vince’s boots landed so their toes pointed directly at the toes of Howard’s loafers, perfectly lined up purely by accident. 

Howard opened the door and allowed Vince to enter his room. The room stood in stark contrast to the companionable mess that overtook the rest of the home. Everything was exactly where it was supposed to be, down to the last millimeter. His bed was made with clean military corners. All of his jazz posters were perfectly spaced apart. His record collection was perfectly organized in a system of Howard’s own design (first, by where the musician stood in Howard’s personal Jazz canon, and then by date he first heard it--the system was completely unintelligible to everyone but Howard) and there was an iron and a steamer in the corner along with a small ironing board.

Again, Howard expected some sort of comment, some little joke, or jab, but Vince remained completely silent. He just wandered over to Howard’s small reading chair and collapsed into it, hiding his face in his hands.

“Vince?”

Vince’s shoulders shook up and down. 

“Vince, are you alright?”

Vince didn’t respond. But Howard was fairly certain he heard a sob. This made Howard very concerned. Vince didn’t cry. He was always a ray of sunshine, always smiling and laughing, always saying everything was “brilliant!” or “genius!” or “well skilled!”

Howard crept over to Vince and gingerly patted him on the shoulder. This was entirely the wrong thing to do, as it prompted Vince to grab a hold of Howard’s shirt and drag him closer. Vince snaked his arms around Howard’s waist and pressed his face into Howard’s front. Howard could feel Vince’s tears leaching through the fabric of his shirt. Howard tried to wriggle away, as he did not particularly like to be touched, especially by someone who was so...damp. But Vince held fast and so eventually Howard resigned himself to his fate and didn’t try to escape as Vince continued to cry.

“Hey, it’s not as bad as all that,” Howard said. “I know it must be tough, not having a mum and all but-”

“Wot?” Vince pulled back and looked up at him. His makeup was smeared all over his face and the rims of his eyes were stark and red against his pale face.

“My mum, bringing up your mum like that, she didn’t know, but I’ll tell her and-”

“I’m not cryin’ cos I don’t have a mum,” Vince said. “I’m cryin’ cos your mum is gonna chop off all my hair!” This sentence ended in a large wail and Vince again buried himself in Howard’s shirt.

Howard dearly wanted to feel annoyed. He could understand being sad about not having a mum, but crying about hair was patently ridiculous. He wanted to feel annoyed, but he couldn’t. Vince’s misery was so complete, so genuine, that Howard couldn’t help but feel sympathetic. 

Eventually, Vince appeared to have finally cried himself out. He pulled back and gave Howard a watery smile that made Howard’s heart do a jimmi flip inside his chest. “Sorry, Howard,” he said. He swiped at his face, already trying to clean up the raccoon smudges under his eyes. 

“That’s quite alright,” Howard said. “Uh. Better out than in.” Howard mentally cringed, what a bloody stupid thing to say.

Stupid the words may have been, but they had the desired effect, because Vince’s lips quirked into a smile and within moments the only evidence that he’d been crying at all were his puffy red rimmed eyes. “Thanks, Howard. But what are we going to do?”

“We? Do?” Howard asked.

“Yeah! What we gonna do about the Candy Queen? She’s taking kids and turning them into nougat stuffed murderers! We gotta do something, “ Vince said. “And she’s gotta pay for what she did to my hair.”

There was a fire behind his eyes that made Howard nervous. 

“We should go to the police,” Howard said.

“Yeah right!” Vince said. “They’re too busy handin’ out speeding tickets and framing people to be any help.”

“But what can we do?” Howard asked.

“Well, you’re always sayin’ you’re a man of action right? So let's go take care of her,” Vince said.

Generally, Howard would take great pleasure in Vince remembering--and believing--that he was a man of action, but what Vince was proposing was too alarming. 

“Take care of her? What on earth does that mean?” Howard said. 

Vince gave Howard a significant look. “You know. Grass her up.”

“Is that some sort of South London Ragamuffin talk? Because it will not be tolerated,” Howard said. “Speak properly or not at all.”

Vince scowled at Howard. “Do ya ever get sick of being such a prick?”

Howard went bright red and spluttered. “Why I-that is-how dare you!”

“How dare I? How very dare you? You didn’t even want to let me in your house, then your mum’s gonna cut off my entire barnet, and then you make fun a’ how I talk. And you still ain’t thanked me for saving your life. Christy Howard, no wonder you ain’t got no friends,” Vince snarled. 

***

Vince instantly knew he’d gone too far. Howard was deathly pale except for two bright spots standing on his cheekbones. He seemed to be folding in on himself. His lanky frame sort of sagged. Vince felt like he could see Howard’s pulling the shades behind his tiny eyes, disappearing into himself. 

“Howard?”

Howard ignored Vince. He gave a small nod to himself and set about tidying his already immaculate room. 

“Howard? Howard? Howard?”

“My dad can probably give you a ride home, probably best if you don’t stay for dinner,” Howard said stiffly.

Vince had done it now. The first person he’d met since he came to the world of man who was  _ interesting _ , and Vince had managed to insult him to his face, and after Howard had been so nice about Vince crying and snotting all over him like some  _ baby. _ “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it. Course you got friends,” Vince said. 

“I don’t,” Howard said. “Because I don’t want them. Why on earth would I want someone like you following me around, chattering incessantly? I’ve only spent a couple hours with you and it’s put me off the entire concept of friendship.”

Vince nodded. Okay, he’d deserved that. At least Howard was talking again. That was an improvement over the silent treatment. He could work with this. “Friends ain’t all bad. Sometimes it’s nice. Better than being alone all the time.”

“And what would you know about it?” Howard said. “You’ve probably never been alone once in your life.”

Vince shook his head. “I was alone lots of times, in the jungle.” Bryan would leave him to go on tour and forbid him from leaving the bus ticket house unless Jahooli was with him. But Jahooli had his own life and couldn’t just be hanging around all the time. So, Vince spent a lot of time on his own, listening to music and trying to get the attention of the macaws that lived in the branches of the tree next door so he’d have someone to talk to. “Sometimes, even the animals was too busy for me, or maybe they was just sick of me.” Vince said it like it was a joke, but his secret fear was that this was exactly what had happened that the animals had grown sick of him and didn’t want to hang out with him. “It got real lonely. Didn’t much like it…” Vince chewed on his lips.

It was as if he’d forgotten that Howard was in the room with him, been a bit too honest. Brought the mood down. Getting all sad again, when he’d only just finished crying like  _ two minutes  _ ago. It was no good. He needed to turn things around.

Vince made himself smile, because, if he did it long enough, the fake smile would turn into a real one. He liked it that people came to him for sunshine. But sometimes they came to him when he didn’t have any to give and he couldn’t exactly turn them away, right? So, he got very good at faking it. So good, in fact, that he convinced even himself that he was nothing but a ball of glitter in a person suit. 

Everything was genius. He’d survived the Candy Queen (got gum put in his hair), he’d made a new friend (he didn’t have any real friends), he was in a cool new city (he’d been kicked out of his home). Everything was genius. 

***

Howard waited for Vince to continue, but he simply sat there, completely lost in thought, with a very strange look on his face. Howard could nearly see the gears turning in Vince’s head. What it was the gears were cogitating, Howard did not know, nor did he want to know. Though he was getting a bit concerned. Vince  _ had  _ been through quite a lot in the last 24 hours. He was about to give Vince a poke to make sure he hadn’t short circuited when Vince smiled at him. The one thousand megawatt smile. Whatever thought he’d been having seemed to have passed. And just like that, Vince was fine again, and Howard felt like a berk for worrying. Nothing bothered Vince Noir. 

“But now I’m in the city and there are people all over and I never have to be alone ever if I don’t want to. It’s genius! You can make friends whenever you want,” Vince said. “Everything is genius.”

Howard rolled his eyes. “Of course  _ you  _ would say that,” he said witheringly. “It’s just all so easy for you.”

Vince, of course, had no idea what true loneliness was. Loneliness of the soul. Walking the lonely road of the jazz poet. Forgoing friendship entirely to pursue the solitary life of some sort of jazzy monk. Howard’s loneliness was tragic and poetic. He didn’t want friends. So it didn’t even matter that no one wanted to be his friend. In fact, it was perfect. 

“There’s plenty of people who’d want to be your friend. If you let them,” Vince said. 

Howard wanted to instantly dismiss this. But Vince had that same strange look on his face, like when he’d been lost in thought. A serious look that didn’t quite sit right on his features.

“Yeah? Like who?” Howard asked. He said it sarcastically, but perhaps he was a bit interested in the answer. Had Vince heard something? Someone wanted to be his friend? 

“Me,” Vince said.

Howard laughed. “Right.”

***

“I’m serious!” Vince said. And he was. Despite how often Howard drove him mad and how he was quite self-involved. He thought Howard was funny and had interesting ideas. Howard seemed like the sort of person who would be interested in what a mouse had to say. And judging by the musical instruments, he also looked like he’d be interested in starting a band. And he called himself a man of action, so surely he would want to embark on an adventure. In all honesty, he would really  _ really  _ like to be friends with Howard. 

Howard paused for a moment, as if really considering what Vince was saying. But then, once his mental calculations were complete, the shades dropped back over his eyes. “You don’t want me as a friend,” Howard said.

Was Howard sick of him? Already? “Why not?” Vince asked. “Is it cos I’m not very smart? I reckon that means I need a smart friend. Or that I talk too much. I could work on that...at some point...in the future...distantly.“

“No. It’s because you have plenty of friends,” Howard said. “You don’t need any more. I’m not going to just be added to your collection, sir.”

Vince wanted to tell Howard that the people at school, they might be his mates, but they weren’t his friends. That Howard wouldn’t be part of his collection. Honest. Maybe he could, maybe he could try--

***

“It’s not like that--”

Howard cut him off. “I’m my own man. A lone wolf. I don’t need anybody else. Don’t want anybody else.” 

At first, Howard had perhaps been a bit taken in by Vince saying he wanted them to be friends. But it was silly. Clearly, it was some sort of joke. Where Vince would act like he wanted to be friends and then when Howard approached him at school, he would act like he didn’t know him and then laugh with all his real mates about what a loser Howard was. 

Vince didn’t want to be his friend. If he thought he did, he was mistaken. 

Howard continued, “I don’t need some muppet getting in the way. Calling up at all hours. Getting into all sorts of trouble I’d have to help with. And Howard Moon is certainly not just going to stand around oohing and aahing while some simpleton expounds on the virtues of David Bowie’s skin care regimen.”

He didn’t notice the effect his words were having on Vince, until Vince stood up and shoved him. “You really are a prick, Howard,” he said, but his voice barely came out a whisper. Vince scooped up his shoes and disappeared down the stairs. 


	3. Chapter 3

Howard hadn’t expected his words to affect Vince at all. Everything just slid off of Vince. Sometimes, someone tried to pick on him for his feminine clothes or because he made terrible marks, but Vince mostly shot them the double v or ignored them. He thought Vince was indestructible. But he was wrong. Which meant,  _ Vince really had wanted to be his friend.  _

“Vince, hold on a moment,” Howard said. He hurried down the stairs after Vince.

In his haste, Howard didn’t notice that Vince was sitting on the step right before the landing, putting on his shoes. Howard tripped over him and went flying. Thankfully, it was a short flight as the landing was right there.

“Ow!” Vince said, rubbing his head where Howard had accidentally kicked it during his brief airborne sojourn. “Wot you doin?”

“Trying to stop you from leaving,” Howard said. He was still lying facedown on the landing. He was sure that he had suffered some sort of structural damage. He couldn’t risk getting up. If his neck was broken he shouldn’t move. Of course, his neck didn’t feel broken, but what if that was a symptom of having a broken neck? 

Vince--with zero concern with whether he paralyzed Howard for life or not--grabbed Howard’s arms and struggled to haul him to his feet, causing Howard to let out another pained shriek. 

“What’s going on up there?” Howard’s mother called. “You aren’t roughhousing up there are you?” Her words were stern, but honestly she sounded pleased at the prospect of Howard engaging in such a traditional pastime as roughhousing with a friend. She was forever after him to put himself out there, try and make some friends, get a little life experience. Her whole family was quite rough and tumble and none of them (including her) seemed to know what to do with fussy particular peculiar Howard. 

“No mum!” Howard said. He ran a quick mental scan of his body and determined that he seemed to be largely unharmed. No thanks to Vince. 

“Alright then,” his mum answered. And this time Howard  _ definitely  _ detected a note of disappointment. 

Vince sat down and started pulling on his boots again.

“Whoa there, Vince, please, just come back up to my room,” Howard whispered, his gaze darting down the staircase, praying his mother wasn’t listening. 

Vince glared at him. “Why should I?” he whispered back. 

“Because I’m sorry. Really sorry. I was being a berk,” Howard said. 

“Yeah. You was,” Vince agreed. 

Alright, Howard deserved that. 

“I’ll admit it. You were trying to be nice, and I was being a complete arse.”

“Totally,” Vince said. “Like the biggest.” 

The little titbox was laying it on a bit thick wasn’t he?

“Alright, well you’re not exactly blameless,” Howard said.

“Wot?”

“You said I don’t have any friends,” Howard said.

“You said you didn’t want any, ya jerkoff,” Vince said, his voice rising a bit in volume due to incredulity.

“But you didn’t know that I had teflon skin, you were trying to be hurtful,” Howard said with all the gravity of a prime time telly lawyer. He, too, had forgotten to keep his voice low. “Ipso facto”--he was fairly sure he was using it correctly, and if he got it wrong it wasn’t like Vince would notice--”you’re just as wrong as I am.” He smirked at Vince. 

“Well, ipso facto, you’re a twat!” Vince said. 

Howard heard a large snort of laughter come from the kitchen, which then morphed into a prolonged coughing fit. And judging from Vince’s grin, he’d heard Howard’s mum laughing as well.

“Perhaps we should go back upstairs,” Howard said. 

Vince shrugged. “Yeah, alright.” He followed Howard back up the stairs, where he once again discarded his boots. 

Howard held the door open for Vince. Vince walked past him and then jumped onto Howard’s perfectly made bed. Howard wanted to tell him to get off, but he also didn’t want to cause another fight. So, he kept his complaints to himself. 

“So whaddaya wanna do?” Vince asked. 

It seemed that all was forgiven. Howard had not imagined that having a frie--acquaint--associate would be quite so tumultuous. 

“About what?” Howard asked, praying Vince wasn’t going to start in on going after the Candy Queen again. 

“No, like what do you wanna do, like right now?” Vince said. “Something fun?”

“Oh. Oh! Right! Something fun. Okay. Yessir.” Howard could not seem to wipe the demented fake smile off his face, nor could he stop talking. His mind was a blank. 

***

Clearly, it was time for Vince to step in. “You got any music?” he asked.

“Music! Yes!” Howard said, relieved. He walked over to the bookcase that held his record collection. He yanked out an album. “How about Livelaughlove Lucas?”

“What kind of music does he play?” Vince asked. He sat up on his knees and bounced on Howard’s bed. 

“The best kind of music there is,” Howard said. “Jazz.”

“What’s that?” Vince asked.

“You’re not familiar with the musical form known as jazz?” Howard asked, as if he couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing. 

“I’ve heard people say it,” Vince said.

“Well, it is simply the most beautiful musical form in the known universe, and I highly doubt any two-bit aliens have come up with anything better,” Howard said.

“Wow,” Vince said, starting to get excited. Jazz sounded well cool. Even the name was cool, with the double z’s, it felt futuristic. 

“There is no other genre with more complexity, more heart, more soul, more raw power, than jazz,” Howard continued. “It is truly the greatest artform. I would put anything Miles Davis has done up against the  _ Starry Night _ , or  _ Hamlet,  _ or  _ Beethoven’s Fifth _ .” Howard chuckled. “I’m almost jealous. You get to experience jazz for the very first time.” 

“Well, go on!” Vince said. “Put it on!” He could hardly wait, he couldn’t believe he hadn’t heard of jazz before. What exactly was Bryan getting at? Keeping the best genre in the entire world from him?

Howard put the record on his turntable, dropped the needle, and the most awful noise imaginable issued from the speakers. It sounded like a goose was being murdered by a lawnmower. It sounded like someone had assaulted a clown. It sounded how a greasy queasy stomach felt.

Vince clapped his hands over his ears. “Turn it off!” he said.

Howard bobbed along to the disturbingly rhythmless music with his eyes closed. “It takes a moment to really get going.”

Vince’s skin felt itchy, as if the weird all over the place notes from the jazz were burrowing into his skin like bugs. “Howard, turn it off!”

“Best part is coming up,” Howard said. His eyes were still closed. 

Vince’s throat felt tight. He pressed his fingertips into his neck and it felt puffy and sensitive. “Howard!” His voice came out in a choked screech. 

Howard’s eyes finally snapped open. “Vince!” He ripped the needle off the record, probably scratching it rather badly, if the sound was anything to go off of, but showing no concern for it. He rushed over to Vince’s side. 

Once the music was off, the itching stopped and Vince could breathe again. Vince carefully prodded his neck with his fingertips and found that the swelling was already going down.

Vince glared at Howard. “I thought you said jazz was good? That was horrible.”

“How dare you? That is one of the seminal albums from the late 70’s Manchester scene,” Howard said.

“Where’d ya read that? Pretentious Jerkoff magazine?” Vince asked. “There’s no way you actually like that rubbish.”

***

Howard was seriously beginning to reconsider Vince as an associate. He seemed to have had some sort of allergic reaction to the greatest love of Howard’s life, jazz, and he was quite moody. Like he’d basically just called Howard a pretentious jerkoff, but he was also smiling at Howard, which didn’t make any sense. 

“You got anything other than jazz?” Vince asked.

“Not really,” Howard said.

“Really? No electro? Punk? Rock? Psychedelic? Glam?” Vince asked.

Howard shook his head.

Vince looked scandalized. “You’re going to sit there and tell me you don’t got one rolling Stones album?”

“No,” Howard said. 

“David Bowie? Gary Numan? T. Rex? New York Dolls? Sex Pistols? Roxy Music? The Human League? Queen? The Cl-”

“Wait, hold on. I do have a Queen album!” Howard said. He’d bought it by mistake because the name of the album was Jazz. Imagine his horror when instead it turned out to be--shudder-- _ stadium rock.  _ Really, it was false advertising. Howard had written a strongly worded letter to this Mr. Mercury and had received back an autographed picture. His mother hadn’t allowed him to throw it away, claiming that he might want it eventually. And judging by Vince’s reaction, that eventually may have finally arrived. 

“Really?!” Vince asked, lighting up. 

“Yeah,” Howard said with overaffected casualness. It was easy for him to find, because his organization system placed it dead last. He pulled the record from the shelf and put it on. 

The opening notes of the first track issued from the speakers. 

Vince appeared at Howard’s shoulder. “Budge over,” Vince said. He nudged Howard out of the way and stole the record sleeve from him. “Ahh here we go, this is just what we need.” He picked up the needle, and--to Howard’s horror--picked up the needle and plunked it back down on the record, not even bothering to use the queueing arm.

The only thing that kept Howard from physically restraining him, was that it was his least favorite record, so he didn’t care if it got scratched. Someone really needed to teach Vince about proper vinyl care, he was a menace. 

Vince turned the volume dial all the way up. And howled along with the record. 

_ Arrrrrrrre you gonna take me home tonight? _

_ Ahhhhhhh, down beside that red firelight _

_ Are you gonna let it all hang out? _

_ Fat bottomed girls _

_ You make the rockin' world go 'round _

Then. Bluesy guitar, And an irresistible driving bass drum. 

Almost against his will, Howard found himself tapping his foot along to the beat. Vince climbed up on Howard’s bed, bouncing and dancing. 

Howard had never gotten past the first song on the album. He’s had no idea that there was a song like  _ this  _ waiting for him. Because surely it was the song that was making him smile like a complete loon, surely it was the song that prompted him to climb up on the bed with Vince and belt only half understood guesses at the lyrics. Surely the song was responsible for his thrumming heart. 

When the song was over, Vince jumped off the bed, ran over to the record player and picked up the needle again. He started the song over again, but then glanced up at Howard. “Sorry, when I like a song, I like to listen to it over and over,” Vince said. “I know it’s well annoying.”

“I do that too!” Howard said. It drove his parents mad, they said no one should have to endure 8 hours of  _ Birdland.  _

This time, Howard attempted to sing along with Vince and Mr. Mercury. Vince stalked around on the floor, “pulling shapes” as he called it. Howard remained on the bed and bounced in rhythm. 

When the song was over, it was Howard who picked up the needle--though he used the queueing arm and gently lifted it rather than just yanking on it--and restarted the song. This time he felt certain that he knew the words. 

The fourth time they played the song, Howard got down on his knees on the bed to grab his guitar from the stand near his nightstand. He slung the strap across his shoulders. 

“Vince! Turn on the amp yeah?” Howard asked. 

Vince grinned up at him. “Tha’s what I’m talkin’ about!” he said. Then he turned on the amp. 

Howard thought he recognized at least a few of the chords. He strummed experimentally. No, not quite right. He moved his fingers, strummed again. Now he was getting somewhere. He didn’t know how long he’d been working on figuring out how to play the song, but when he looked up, the record was off and Vince was sitting on the floor, watching him play, with the most captivated look on his face. 

“You’re really good,” Vince said. 

Howard looked down bashfully. “It’s nothing.” 

“No! You are! Trust me, Bryan tried to teach me to play since I was jus’ a nipper, but he gave it up as a bad job. Said I was the least musical of all his children. Even Colto, the deaf horse,” Vince said. 

“That seems a bit harsh…” Howard said. 

Vince shrugged. “It’s alright. Colto is really good. Besides, Beethoven was deaf, too.”

“How did you know that?” Howard asked, honestly surprised. He wouldn’t have guessed Vince knew anything about classical music.

“Colto told me,” Vince said. 

“Ah,” Howard said. 

“But I’d rather be a frontman anyway. Vince Noir, Rock n Roll Star.” Vince snapped into a pose. “And the point is, you’re really good. Like we could be in a band, good.”

“Really?” Howard asked. He’d never really considered being in a band. He’d always assumed that he would be a solo artist.

“Yeah! It’d be genius!” Vince said.

Vince started the song again and Howard played along while Vince sang, until his mother knocked on the door and told them it was time for dinner.

Howard, his parents, and Vince all sat at the kitchen table. There were mountains of food. Which seemed a bit excessive for a weeknight, but Howard knew it was because his mum was excited that Vince was over. 

Vince took large portions of everything and then went back for seconds. “Thanks Mrs. Moo--I mean Gerda, this is all genius!” Vince said through a mouthful of mashed potatoes. 

Vince’s table manners were atrocious, and if it had been Howard talking with his mouth full, he would have been scolded, but Howard’s mother just said--

“Thank you, dear,” and smiled at Vince. 

“Mum, can Vince stay the night?” Howard asked.

“Oh, I don’t know sweetie, it’s a school night,” Gerda said.

“Please?!” Vince and Howard asked in unison. 

“Well, if we ask Vince’s parents--”

“I live with my uncle,” Vince said. “And he don’ care, honest. Probably be glad to be rid of me for the night. He sometimes forgets I’m even there.” He smiled at Howard’s parents as if he didn’t quite realize that what he was saying was actually quite sad.

Howard’s parents exchanged a look and then Howard’s dad, Burt, said “well, I think that would be alright wouldn’t it?”

Howard’s mum nodded. 


	4. Chapter 4

Things took a dark turn for Vince after dinner. 

“Sweetheart, we really do have to do something about that gum,” Gerda said. She prodded at a gob of gum on the back of his head. 

“Do we, though? I’m not so sure,” Vince said. He’d been doing a lot of thinking to find a way to avoid having to get his hair cut off. So far, he had come up with obtaining a time travel device to go back in time and warn himself not to mouth off to the Candy Queen. Or maybe he could go into the future and bring back the latest in gum removal technology. Maybe he could sleep with his head in the freezer so the gum would freeze solid and then in the morning they could just chip it away. “Maybe it’s like special hair gum and it’s actually really easy to get out. Like is death really necessary?Can we ever truly be sure that it’s the right choice?”

“I’m sure, pet. It will be just fine. I cut Howard’s hair all the time,” Gerda said.

Vince eyed Howard’s hair. Not exactly a ringing endorsement. 

“It’s only going to get worse the longer you leave it,” Gerda said. Her voice was so kind, but her words were so evil.

Vince chewed on his lips, before finally sighing and closing his eyes. “Yeah. Alright.” He could feel himself getting teary again. “I just need a minute first.” He got up from the table and left the kitchen. 

***

Howard and his parents sat in silence. Howard wasn’t really sure what to do. 

“Howard,” his mum whispered. “Go after him. See if he’s alright.” 

“What am I supposed to say?” Howard asked. “I’ve never done this before.” And his last few attempts at comforting Vince had not been particularly successful. But he did want to try. He wanted to try and be Vince’s friend. 

“You’ll know. You’ll say the right thing,” his mum said.

What a right load of bollocks that was. He’d “know”? He’d “say the right thing”? That was absolutely preposterous. Just the sort of helpful advice he’d come to expect from his mum and dad. 

“Thanks, mum,” Howard said.

“You’re welcome, sweetie,” his mum said, completely missing the sarcasm. 

Howard pushed his chair back from the table and went to find Vince. 

“Vince? Vinny? Vin? Vincente?” Howard tried out a few nicknames--friends did nicknames right?--but each was more distasteful than the last. 

Howard saw the light was on in the toilet down at the end of the hall. The door was only open a crack. He could see Vince standing in front of the sin. Howard hesitated a moment then gently knocked on the door. 

Vince didn’t answer.

“Vince? Are you alright?” Howard said through the crack in the door. 

Vince still didn’t answer. He was very still, staring at himself in the mirror. 

Howard hated to do anything without practicing or at least reading up on it. Before he ever picked up a guitar, he read three or four books about how to play. He’d researched proper dishwashing technique and the correct way to hold a pencil and how to survive a shark attack. With preparation there was no need for luck, which was good, because--for Howard--luck was in short supply. But he’d never bothered to look in the library for books about how to be a good friend, hadn’t thought he’d ever need them. 

But Howard had to do something. So, he pushed the door open, stepped inside, and closed it behind him. 

Vince didn’t look at him. He just continued staring in the mirror.

***

Vince couldn’t seem to pull himself away from his reflection. He was trapped in it. The next time he looked in a mirror, his beautiful hair would be gone. And he couldn’t find it in himself to pretend he wasn’t sad about it. 

“Vince,” Howard said, very quietly. 

“I finally had it just right,” Vince said. He gripped the edge of the sink. He was going to have to go through all of those awkward stages again, until it was finally long enough. He’d been growing it out since before Bryan had dropped him off at his uncle’s. 

Howard’s reflection joined Vince’s own, in the mirror. 

“I’m really sorry, Little Man,” Howard said.

Vince glanced at Howard. “Little Man?”

“Nickname. Trying it out. If you don’t like it--” 

“I do like it,” Vince said. He smiled a bit, but it didn’t last long, as he caught sight, once again, of the gum in his hair. 

“It will still look nice,” Howard blurted out. 

“What?” Vince asked.

“Your hair, it will still look nice. Even short,” Howard said. 

“Do you really think so?” Vince said. “It won’t look too…” He just couldn’t find the word he was searching for, the one that would explain just what he was worried about, why he needed his hair to be long. “Too…” He nearly stamped his foot in frustration. Words were so stupid. “Too something?”

“No. It won’t look too something,” Howard said. And he said it with such certainty that Vince felt like Howard had actually understood what he was trying to say. “It will look great. Because you’ll make it great.” Howard smiled at him softly. 

“Thanks, Howard,” Vince said. Howard’s words actually had made him feel a bit better. More than that, Howard’s presence had made him feel better. It was time to say goodbye. “Goodbye Gregor. Goodbye Analisha. Goodbye Bowery Boys. Goodbye Sonny Zoom Zoom. Goodbye Kaitlyn and Caitlin, and Katelyn, and Caytlyn, and Catelin--”

“I’m sorry, who are you speaking to?” Howard asked.

“My hair,” Vince said.

“Your hair... You’ve named your hair,” Howard said.

“Yeah,” Vince said. “Goodbye Cockeyed Johnny, goodbye Greedoo, goodbye Stillwell--”

“You’ve named each individual hair….” Howard said. 

“Yeah,” Vince said.

“We don’t have time for you to say goodbye to each and every hair, Vince. We’ll be here all night,” Howard said. “We’ll be here for years.” 

“Alright fine,” Vince pouted. He vaguely waved his hands over his head. “Sorry darlings, I’d say goodbye to all of you if I could.” He shot Howard a dirty look. “But you all know how I feel. I’ll see that you get a proper burial. Goodbye.”

They left the toilet and walked back into the kitchen. Howard’s mother had set up a chair with a sheet under it. She had a spray bottle of water and some scissors. 

Vince sat down in the chair. Gerda spritzed his hair with the water. He squeezed his eyes closed as he heard the telltale snik of scissors cutting through damp hair.

A chunk of Vince’s hair fell to the ground with a soft flump. 

“My, it’s as quiet as a funeral in here,” Gerda said. 

“It is a funeral, Gerda,” Vince told Gerda solemnly. 

“Ah,” Gerda said. From then on, she worked in silence. 

Vince had to give Gerda credit, she salvaged as much of his hair as she could. She even sent Howard back to the toilet to grab both of her hand mirrors so that he could see the back and tell her if he wanted her to do something different. 

After much consideration, Vince had decided to go with a punk look. Gerda lent him hairspray and he teased and combed his hair until it stood out from his head in a spiky blond halo. When he finally made it back to his uncle’s flat, he’d have to put away the glam clothes and drag out the punk stuff again to match the new do. 

Once Vince was satisfied--as satisfied as he could be, anyway--with his hair, he and Howard and the bag of hair he and Howard had gathered up off the floor, went back upstairs. Howard lent Vince some old pajamas that had become too small after his latest growth spurt. 

“What do you want to do next?” Vince asked. 

“Go to bed to get a good start on tomorrow?” Howard said.

“You’re hilarious, Howard,” Vince said. “Come on, the night is young. And so are we.”

Howard made a disgusted face. “Ugh. That was awful.”

“You’re just jealous you didn’t say it,” Vince said. 

“Patently ridiculous,” Howard said.

Vince picked up a pillow off Howard’s bed and walloped Howard in the head with it.

***

“Excuse me, sir” Howard said. “That is assault.”

Vince responded to this by hitting Howard with the pillow again.

“Hit me with that pillow one more time, Little Man, and I’ll come at you,” Howard warned. He held his hands out in a judo pose. “I’ll come at you like a buzzard. You’ll be stepping into the painey season, cos I’m Monsoon Moon.”

Vince held the pillow over his head with both arms and brought it down hard on the top of Howard's head. 

“Oh, that’s it,” Howard growled. He grabbed his other pillow and whacked Vince with it.

Vince gave him a devilish grin and hopped onto Howard’s bed. He tried to hit Howard, but Howard dodged and he missed. 

Howard crawled onto the bed under a thunderous onslaught of blows to his back. Vince dropped down and rolled off the edge of the bed and crawled underneath. Howard knelt in the center of the bed, waiting to see on which side Vince would emerge. 

Vince popped up from the end and hit Howard in the head with his pillow before he disappeared back under the bed. 

“Oh, you little titbox,” Howard said. He dropped down and followed Vince under the bed, Vince saw him coming and tried to crawl away. Howard grabbed his ankle. Vince kicked at him but Howard held on, but when he tried to drag Vince back under the bed, he lost his grip and Vince escaped. 

Vince jumped up and down on the bed. “Howaaaaaard, come out and play-ayyyy,” he called in a dangerous sing-song. 

Howard crawled out from under the bed as quickly as possible. Vince rolled off the side, trying to land on Howard’s back, but Howard slid out of the way and Vince landed on the floor with a loud “oof!”

They grappled around on the floor, rolling around, tossing insults and ineffectual slaps. Vince smacked Howard on the ear. Howard shrieked like a girl, causing Vince to tip over laughing. 

Howard tried to retaliate, but Vince waved him off.

“No more,” Vince said, still laughing. “No more, I can’t take it” He held his belly. He imitated Howard’s shriek, then cackled some more, his jaw working up and down, completely uninhibited laughter. 

Howard tried to hold onto some of his annoyance. “Well, I’m glad my pain is amusing to you.” He gave Vince a very severe look. This caused Vince to laugh even harder, even going so far as to point. 

Vince tried to stop laughing. He clamped his mouth shut, trying to keep his lips glued together. But the laughter still escaped through his nose. The sight of Vince doing his very best not to laugh, and failing miserably, was starting to make Howard laugh a bit himself.

Howard poked Vince in the ribs and it was like all of the laughter Vince had held in, escaped in one noise, and it was such a strange noise that Howard was soon also lying on the floor laughing until his belly hurt. He couldn’t help it. And every time he and Vince looked at each other, they laughed some more. 

Howard closed his eyes, thinking maybe if he didn’t look at Vince that maybe he would finally be able to stop laughing, so he tried it, but then the absurdity of the notion got to him and he started laughing again. 

Vince demanded an explanation, and every time Howard tried to explain, he started giggling and he had no idea how much he’d been able to successfully convey to Vince. 

“We have to stop,” Vince groaned. “I’m gonna be sick.” but he continued to giggle. 

“Stop being funny then,” Howard said. 

“I’m not!” Vince said. “You’re the one who keeps doin’ the funny stuff.” He rolled over and laid on his stomach. He rested his chin on the rug and took a few deep breaths that still dissolved into little snickers. “Do this, I think it helps.”

Howard laid down on his stomach with his chin resting on the carpet as well. He gazed across the carpeted landscape to Vince’s face. “I think it does help,” Howard said. 

There was a knock at the door. “Time for bed boys!” Gerda said. “School tomorrow.”

“Yes, mum,” Howard said.

“Yes, ma’am,” Vince said. 

“Let’s build a blanket fort,” Vince said. 

“Yeah, alright,” Howard said. 

They dragged the chair closer to the bed. Howard stretched a blanket from the chair to the bed and draped blankets on either side to create the walls, while Vince spread out the duvet and arranged the pillows inside. Once everything was secure, Howard climbed into the fort with Vince. 

Vince sat crosslegged on one side, Howard sat across from him. 

“How long you reckon?” Vince asked.

“How long until what?” Howard asked. 

“Until your parents go to sleep,” Vince whispered, leaning in conspiratorially. “Until we can sneak out, go get the Candy Queen.” He smiled at Howard expectantly. 

“What, you’re still on about that?” Howard said. 

The smile dropped from Vince’s face. “Yes,” Vince said. “I am still ‘on about that’, she ruined my hair.” 

***

Did Howard really, still, not understand? Vince thought Howard had understood. But Howard still didn’t want to go after the Candy Queen. If he understood, really understood, he’d be going with Vince, not dismissing him with a “still on about that?”

“I know she did, Little Man, and I’m sorry. But even if we weren’t seeking revenge on an evil sugar monarch capable of turning us into sweetpeople, it would still be dangerous to go out so late. Do you really want to walk around that park in the dark?”

Vince shrugged. It didn’t really seem all that dark to him. There was a lot more light in the world of man, than there had been in the jungle. The darkness didn’t scare him. And the Candy Queen didn’t scare him either.

“She has to be stopped,” Vince said. 

“I know,” Howard said. “I know she does. But we can’t do it tonight. We’ll just get hurt. Let’s just wait until morning. We’ll talk to my parents alright? We can show them where the tunnel is. We’ll see that the Candy Queen is brought to justice.” 

Vince considered it. He looked at Howard’s earnest face. He thought about how kind the Moon’s were. He ran his hand through his newly shorn hair. And he made his decision.

He laid down and pulled the duvet over himself. “Goodnight, Howard.”

Howard laid down beside Vince and gathered the other half of the duvet around himself. “Goodnight, Vince.”


	5. Chapter 5

Howard woke up tangled in blankets. The blanket fort had collapsed in the night. He lifted up the blankets, searching for Vince. 

“Vince? Are you in there? Have you been smothered?” 

No answer. 

“You’re not still sleeping are you?” Howard asked. He stood up and piled the blankets onto the bed. Vince was gone.

Howard rushed down the stairs. “Mum? Vince? Is Vince down there?” He reached the kitchen and saw his mother sipping tea and reading the paper spread out on the counter. 

She looked up at him. “Morning, sweetie,” she said. 

“Is Vince down here?” Howard asked. 

“He asked your father to drop him off at his uncle’s flat so he could change before school,” his mum said. “But he said he’d see you at school.”

“Is that...all he said?” Howard asked. “He didn’t ask anything else?”

His mum shook her head. “No.”

Vince wasn’t at school. 

Howard found he couldn’t focus on what the teacher was saying. Much to his teachers’ relief, he didn’t raise his hand to answer a question even once all morning. During their break for lunch, Howard hovered around Vince’s group of mates to see if the’d spoken to them at all, but they barely seemed to notice Vince’s absence. They were too busy yammering on about some ridiculous pop star called Musta Chagroom. 

Howard gathered up his courage and approached the group of trendies. He circled the little circle the group had formed, trying to find a weak spot where he might break in, but their shoulders were all touching, creating an unbreachable wall. Howard stuck his hands between two of the trendies and pried them apart to enter the circle. “Have any of you seen Vince?”

“Who?” a severe girl with purple glitter eyeshadow asked.

“Vince. Vince Noir. Colorful hair? Large eyes of a bushbaby? Never shuts up about Gary Numan?” Howard said.

“Oh, him,” a boy with jelly bracelets and a full jacobean ruff said. “He’s a bit old news isn’t he? Like, we get it, you’re missing, but like get over yourself right?” The boy tossed his head to get his fringe out of his eyes. 

“What on earth are you talking about?” Howard said.

“It’s not like he was the first one. Bit of a follower move. Lots of other, cooler, people already went missing. Like, get your own idea,” the boy with the ruff said. 

Howard turned away from the group in disgust. These people weren’t Vince’s friends. They didn’t care about him at all.

Howard had never once skipped school before. He didn’t even know how one went about skipping school. When the bell rang for everyone to return to class, Howard hid in the toilets. Once the coast was clear, he walked down the hallways very casually. Any hall monitors hid from him, because he was known for dressing down hall monitors whose sashes weren’t regulation, stating that they were “disrespecting the uniform.” And besides, there was just no way that Howard Moon didn’t have a hall pass. 

He opened the door to the school and simply walked outside. Howard glanced over his shoulder to make sure no one was following him. But it seemed that he had succeeded. It was sort of exhilarating, though he would have to be careful not to make a habit of it.

First, Howard went to see if Vince was still at his uncle’s gym. The gym was in a bit of a rough neighborhood, so Howard stepped lively. When he entered the gym he was nearly bowled by the stench of sweat. How on earth did Vince manage to always smell so good when he lived here? Howard felt like he could already feel the stink burrowing into his skin. 

There was an older gent with grey curly hair, coaching two boxers and smoking a cigar. He looked like he was in charge. 

Howard marched up to him. “Excuse me, sir.”

“Youth classes are on Wednesdays,” the man said. 

“No, I’m an assoc-friend of Vince’s? You’re his uncle right?” Howard said.

The man nodded. “Yeah, I’m Frank Black.” He returned his attention to his boxers circling in the ring. One was an octopus man, the other was a circle. “Clean his gutters,” Frank called to the octopus. “Don’t forget to turn off the kettle.”

The octoman hit the circle with an octohook.

“Promise to take him fishing,” Frank said as the octoman gave the circle an uppercut.

“I was wondering if you knew where he was?” Howard asked, struggling to be heard over the noise of the gym and Frank’s instructions to his boxer. 

Frank jumped. “Jesus, you’re still ‘ere?” 

“Do. You know. Where Vince. Is?” Howard shouted. He was getting quite frustrated at the lack of urgency. 

Frank shrugged. “I dunno. At the track?”

“The track? Does he often go to the track?” Howard asked. As ridiculous as the idea was, he could see Vince going to the track, maybe to talk to the horses. 

“That’s where I’d be, if I wasn’t here,” Vince’s uncle said. 

“When’s the last time you saw him?” Howard asked.

“Year ago?” Frank said. “I don’t know. Last time he came to visit.”

“Last time he came to--” Howard sputtered,”--he’s been living with you for two months!” 

“Oh yeah, well, he’s around here somewhere idn’t ‘e?” Frank said. He turned back to his boxer. “Stick your hand in the jam jar.”

Howard left Vince’s uncle and found the stairs that led from the gym to the flat up above. He climbed the stairs and entered the flat. It was dingy and gray, There were a few framed press clippings from various boxing matches but that was the only decoration. He walked down the narrow hallway, pushing open doors as he went. “Vince?” Howard called out. “Are you up here?” 

He opened the door at the end of the hall and it was like going from the black and white portion of the  _ Wizard of Oz  _ to the technicolor part. There were so many competing bright colors that it made Howard’s eyes hurt, but he felt on odd affection for it anyway, or maybe it was just affection for the person who had chosen this ghastly color scheme. 

There was no Vince though.

It was as Howard had feared. Vince had gone to face the Candy Queen alone. 

Howard had known where Vince was. He’ only been stalling, hoping and praying Vince hadn’t done the stupid impulsive thing he had absolutely done. There was no denying it now, and Howard had wasted valuable time. 

Howard ran toward the park, trying to remember where Vince had said the tunnel was. Vince hadn’t been the most specific in his description but Howard eventually found the mouth of the tunnel at the park’s center. 

The tunnel burrowed into the side of a hill and then dipped down into darkness. The dirt leading toward the tunnel gradually turned into hundreds and thousands. Candy floss cobwebs hung from the top of the opening, fluttering gently in the breeze, tiny sugar spiders scuttled through the webs. Little jelly mushrooms made a little path leading into the tunnel. 

Howard looked around. “Vince?” There was no Vince. Maybe Howard had beaten him there. Maybe Vince hadn’t intended to go into the tunnel at all. Howard was about to call it, leave, go back home, when he saw something glint in the hundreds and thousands. Howard walked over and picked up the item. It was an Iggy Pop badge. Howard knew Vince had had this badge when he’d stayed at Howard’s house. That meant Vince had been here, that Vince had gone into the tunnel. Alone. 

There was only one thing for a man of action to do. Howard took a deep breath--then five or six more-- and entered the tunnel. 

Once the sunlight finally died, Howard was able to make out a faint purple bioluminescent glow of rock candy stalagmites and stalactites. It was just bright enough for him to see a few feet in front of him. When he looked up, he saw chocolate bats hanging from the ceiling. He cringed away from them, praying they didn’t wake up. 

Howard made his way deeper into the tunnel. He knew he was moving too slowly, but he was too scared to walk any faster. 

***

Vince was starting to think that his memory of the tunnel was not all that accurate. He didn’t recognize anything. Where was the swamp? Where was the cage with the giant Haribo bear? He wished he was better at remembering his rights from his lefts, he wished he had some food, and he wished he wasn’t alone. At least he could do something about the rumbling in his stomach. He reached up and grabbed a candy mushroom protruding from the wall of the cave. He popped it into his mouth. It was one of the best sweets he’d ever eaten, fruity with just the right amount of chew. But it was a cold comfort. 

He wondered if Howard would be angry with him. He hoped not. He felt like Howard was the first person who seemed to understand him, or not actually understood him--not yet--but the first person who had an interest in understanding him. He wished Howard was with him. 

He heard a squelching noise behind him and whipped around. There was no one there. Vince wasn’t going to fall for the same trick twice. “I know you’re there!” he called. “You might as well come out.” 

At first, nothing happened. Vince stood there, tapping the toe of his boot on the ground, the very picture of exasperated impatience. The squelching got louder. Then, finally, the bubbleberk emerged from the shadows. His large black fedora clutched in his sticky pink hands. 

“Oh, it’s you,” Vince sneered. “Well. Go on then. Snatch me up. Take me to the Queen. Put more  _ gum  _ in my hair. I ain’t scared of you.” 

***

Entering the tunnel had been a horrible mistake, of that, Howard was certain. He had resigned himself to dying in the caves, perhaps someday, someone would find his corpse, perfectly preserved in a jelly baby or some such horrible nonsense. The whole situation was absolutely preposterous. If he survived, he would have to make certain that this sort of thing didn’t happen in the future. After this, it would be the quiet life for him and Vince. 

Up ahead, Howard heard talking. Two people. And one of them was Vince!

Howard broke into a run.

***

“All’s I’m saying is that you got ta get your life together. Kidnappin’ kids. It’s not a good look. I get that you like bein’ her right hand man. Doin’ her bidding. I get it. But does she even appreciate you? Like you need something else to bring you some enjoyment. It can’t just be about what you bring to the table. You gotta do somethin’ for yourself. You like music? I bet you like music. You strike me as an Alice Cooper guy.”

The bubbleberk, who Vince now knew was named Charlie, shrugged. “Never heard of her.” 

“Wot? Where ya been livin’? In a cave?” Vince asked.

“Yeah,” Charlie said.

“Still ain’t no excuse, mate. Here,” Vince pulled a cassette from his pocket and handed it to Charlie. “You’re lucky I keep one a’ his tapes on me at all times. I’ve also got Jagger, Bowie, Numan, and my ex-foster father’s band, but I don’t think you’re quite ready for th--”

Vince heard a great scream come from behind him. He turned around, and so did Charlie. 

It was Howard. Howard ran up, gave Charlie a gigantic shove in which Howard basically bounced off and Charlie moved not an inch, then got between Charlie and Vince. 

“If you want him, you’ll have to go through me,” Howard said. He held up his hands in a judo pose.

“Okay…” Charlie said. 

Vince’s heart swelled. It was true that there was no actual danger--he and Charlie were getting along famously--but Howard didn’t know that. And he’d put himself in danger anyway. For Vince. 

“Okay?” Howard asked. “Just okay?”

“Yeah,” Charlie said. 

Howard looked to Vince, eyes asking for an explanation.

Vince shrugged. “We just clicked.”

“Right, well, I’m glad you’ve made a new friend, but it’s time to go,” Howard said. He grabbed Vince’s wrist and pulled him back toward the way they’d come. 

“Wait! We gotta go after the Queen!” Vince said. 

“I was lucky enough to find you, after you  _ left me, _ ” Howard said. “We’re going.”

Vince did feel bad about leaving Howard, but he’d had to act. Bryan and Jahooli had taught him that it didn’t much matter what you did, as long as you did it decisively, and he had decided. He was going to defeat the Candy Queen and set all the sweet people free. He’d decided and so, in his mind, the outcome was already fixed, now all that was left was execution. 

“We have to stop her, Howard. Charlie told me what she has planned. And it’s bad. She’s not stopping with just the kids. She’s going to turn the entire town into sweetpeople. Your mum and dad. My uncle. Everybody. And we’ve got to move fast. She gets more powerful, the more people she changes. Soon, she’ll be able to leave the tunnels and return to the surface,” Vince said. 

Vince, I can’t,” Howard said. “I can’t. I wish I could.”

“You can! Look what you just did, Howard! You thought Charlie was attacking me, and you jumped in front of me, you protected me. That was really brave,” Vince said. 

Howard shook his head. “But that wasn’t anything. You were just in danger and--”

“And you wanted to save me,” Vince nodded. “I get it. Just like I wanted to save you when Charlie attacked ya. Cos we’re friends.”

Vince held his breath, waiting to see if Howard would say “we’re not friends.” But instead, Howard nodded.

“That’s true. We are,” Howard said. 

Vince smiled. “Best friends. And as your best friend, I’m tellin’ ya, we can do this. We can save everybody.”

*******

Technically, Vince was right. Howard had rescued him, well, tried to rescue him. Maybe he was brave enough. “Alright. Let’s do it,” Howard said. He nodded rapidly, convincing himself this was a good idea.. “Yeah.”

Vince turned to Charlie. “Thanks for all your help. Go be free.”

“Wait, now hold on,” Howard said. “Don’t we need him?”

“He’s got a lot to figure out about himself before he can help anyone,” Vince said sagely. 

Howard still thought that Charlie could have helped with the Queen, even if he still had work to do on himself. But the gum gorgon had already rounded the corner and disappeared from sight. 

“I know the way now,” Vince said. He smiled at Howard, his face glowing in the purple bioluminescence of the tunnel. 

They walked for a long time, Vince confidently leading them. They marched through the jelly swamp, past the broken cage with the peeled back bars where Vince and the Haribo Bear had been trapped. 

“It’s not much further to the throne room,” Vince said. “Only a few more--” 

Vince suddenly disappeared from view. A hole in the floor had opened up right underneath him. Vince screamed as he fell. 

“Vince!” Howard screamed. He ran forward and skidded over to the edge, flopping down on his stomach. 

It was a trap door. It had been covered with hundreds and thousands to help it blend in with the ground. 

Vince cried out as he struck the ground. 

“Vince!” Howard called.

“Howard!” Vince yelled back. 

Howard thought he could make out Vince’s outline about ten feet below. He had to get Vince out of there.

“Howard!” Vince yelled. 

“Don’t worry Vince, I’m going to get you out of there!” Howard called down.

“No!” Vince screamed. “Behind you!”

Howard turned around just in time to see a Peppermint Man swinging a peppermint hammer at his face, but not soon enough to do anything about it. The peppermint hammer connected with Howard’s face and everything went black.


	6. Chapter 6

Vince struggled against the taffy that bound his arms to his sides. Howard slumped beside him, still unconscious, with a big bruise raising up on his eye. They were tied together in the throne room of the queen. 

The queen was bangin’ on about something, but Vince couldn’t be bothered. Howard was hurt and it was all Vince’s fault. He’d put Howard in danger just because he was angry and wanted revenge. That wasn’t right. Friends, real friends, didn’t put each other in danger for no good reason. 

“Howard?” Vince said. “Hey. Howard? Wake up, yeah?” He rocked back and forth, trying to shake Howard awake. “Howard!”

“Silence!” The Queen shrieked. “I’m explaining my evil plan right now, the least you could do is listen!” Up close, Vince could tell that the Candy Queen was made of white chocolate, and her face had a certain boney charm. Her crown was a bunch of polo mints stuck together in an elaborate pattern. This time, her dress was made of raspberry bootlaces wound tight all over her body. 

“Woteva, lady,” Vince said. “I don’ care about your plan. I care about my mate.” Vince nudged Howard. “Howard?”

Howard’s head lolled around. He moaned a bit, so Vince knew he was still alive at least. 

“So, after all this, you don’t care about my plan,” the Queen said. 

“Yeah, that’s right. I already know your plan. I know about how you’re gonna take over the town. Gonna start a war. Blah blah blah. It’s borin’,” Vince said.

“No it isn’t,” the Queen said. “You dare speak to me this way?”

“Yeah, I do dare. You’re borin’. I don’t know how someone with such cool fashion sense could be so cliche.” Vince said. 

“There is nothing cliche about--” 

“Takin’ over a town? Tons a towns get taken over every week. Transformin’ people into stuff? People get transformed every day. Starting a war with humanity? I could name off at least 12 intergalactic, interdimensional, and intercontinental invasions from this year.” Vince sneered and shook his head in disappointment. “None of this is interesting. If you’re gonna be a monster, come up with something cool.”

A blush rose on the Candy Queen’s face, like a strawberry swirl. “Well, what would be cool?”

Vince shrugged. “I dunno. Turn a lake into jelly? Offer to turn people’s pets into sweets? Make a chocolate mountain, then charge people to help eat it and make a ton of cash and then cheat on your taxes? The possibilities are endless.”

Howard jerked awake. “Vince!”

“I’m right here, Howard,” Vince said. He tried to lay his head on Howard’s shoulder to reassure him, but his head didn’t quite reach. “I’m so glad you’re okay! And I’m so sorry I didn’t listen. I swear, after this, I’ll do whatever you say.” 

“Yeah, that’s all great, but what’s going on?” Howard asked. 

The Candy Queen loudly cleared her throat. 

“Candy Queen and I are having a bit of a conversation,” Vince said.

“And, um, how is it going?” Howard asked. 

Vince looked at the Candy Queen. “Well? How  _ is  _ it going?” 

The Candy Queen sat for a moment, pondering all that Vince had said. Vince smiled at her. The megawatt smile, the one that rarely failed to get him out of a jam.

“I’ve given it a lot of thought…” The Candy Queen said. “And I think you’re right. Vince, was it? You’re right, Vince.”

Vince grinned. “Cheers! That’s great! Let us go then.” He ineffectually strained against the taffy keeping him and Howard stuck together.

“Oh, I can’t do that,” the Queen said.

“Wot?” Vince asked, his brow creasing in confusion. “But you said--”

“You’re right, but you also disrespected me. I could never allow you to live after the way you spoke to me,” the Candy Queen said. 

“You can’t be serious,” Vince said. 

“Oh, I am very serious,” the Candy Queen said as she turned devilish red, horns curled up through her crown, locking it into place. She laughed maniacally. 

“Well at least let Howard go, he didn’t disrespect you,” Vince said.

“Let us go, you--you--you twat!” Howard screamed.

“Until just then,” Vince murmured to himself. 

The Candy Queen looked angry enough to spit fire, or nails, or fiery nails. Vince and Howard both tried to stand up, but they couldn’t move, the taffy was too tight. 

And so they screamed.

The Queen slowly creeped toward them, drawing out the moment. 

Howard and Vince continued to scream. 

And Vince could swear that he heard music in the distance. Guitar. Then:

_ Well we got no choice _

_ All the girls and boys _

Alice Cooper?

_ Makin' all that noise _

_ 'Cause they found new toys _

_ Well we can't salute ya can't find a flag _

_ If that don't suit ya that's a drag _

The music grew louder. Vince stopped screaming so he could better hear, though Howard continued to scream beside him, as the Queen slowly, like ridiculously slowly, came toward them.

_ School's out for summer _

_ School's out forever _

_ School's been blown to pieces _

Some of the Queen’s henchpeople heard the music as well. “Your majesty…” one of them began.

“Quiet! I am enjoying this,” the Queen said. 

_ No more pencils no more books _

_ No more teacher's dirty looks yeah _

The sound of the music rattled the walls of the throne room. The Queen and Howard were the only ones who didn’t notice the music. 

_ Well we got no class _

_ And we got no principals _

_ And we got no innocence _

_ We can't even think of a word that rhymes _

Charlie burst into the throne room with a massive boombox hoisted high over his head.

“Howard, look!” Vince said. “We’re saved!” 

Howard finally stopped screaming. And the Queen finally heard the music. 

_ School's out for summer _

_ School's out forever _

_ My school's been blown to pieces _

“What is that?” the Candy Queen shrieked. She turned around and saw Charlie. “Where have you been?”

“Finding myself,” Charlie said.

“Finding yourself? What kind of ridiculous--” 

“I found myself. And Vince helped,” Charlie said. “So you don’t touch him.” He set the boombox on the ground. 

“Touch him? Touch him?! I’m going to kill him,” the Queen snarled. She turned back toward Vince. 

Charlie sighed. “You had your chance.” He closed his eyes and gum spread in a pool around his feet, it spread further and further, then pink people sprung up from the gum, fully formed. Some of the gum gorgons held off the other people in the throne room--the members of the court--who were trying to protect the queen, though plenty of the court members took the opportunity to run back to their lives. The rest of the gum gorgons rushed the queen. They stretched their arms and encircled the her, squeezing her harder and harder. 

The Queen screamed and tried to wrestle free. 

_ No more pencils no more books _

_ No more teacher's dirty looks _

_ Out for summer _

Charlie squelched over and enveloped the Queen completely in his pink flesh. Her screams were completely muffled as gum filled her mouth. 

It was fairly gruesome. Howard fainted beside Vince. 

And then eventually she stopped moving and the gum people receded back into Charlie. 

“Is she dead?” Vince asked. 

“No. She’s just part of me now,” Charlie said. 

Vince nodded. “Cool. Can you untie us now?”

Charlie pulled the taffy off of Vince and Howard. Vince stretched his arms and Howard slumped over on the floor. 

Vince knelt down and slapped Howard’s face gently. “Wake up.”

Howard snapped awake. “What. What’s happened?”

“We won! Everything's good now Howard! It all worked out!” Vince said, smiling wildly. 

Honestly, it couldn’t have worked out better if he planned it. Everything really  _ was  _ genius. 

“Ah! Good!” Howard said, before fainting again. 

***

When Howard woke up, he was back in his own bed. He rubbed his forehead. “That was a strange dream.” He and Vince Noir being friends, getting attacked by a Candy Queen, getting rescued by a gum monster. It was madness. He climbed out of bed and picked up his trousers. They were covered with taffy. 

It had all been real. 

Howard ran downstairs. “Mum!” 

His mum met him at the stairs and enveloped him in a hug that he immediately wriggled out of. “Howie! You’ve been sleeping for hours. Are you alright?”

“Yeah, mum. I’m fine. Where’s Vince?” Howard asked. 

“Well that pink gentleman took him home, poor pet was practically sleepin’ on his feet. But he did say he’d see you at school,” Howard’s mum said. 

Howard had heard that before. He hoped this time Vince was telling him the truth. He knew he and Vince had been through something amazing. Extraordinary. But what if it hadn’t meant as much to Vince as it had him? What if their friendship was only temporary. What if it had never been real? Or it really was a joke?

His stomach was in knots the entire walk to school. What if everything had changed? Or, even worse, what if nothing had?

Howard walked into the yard at school. He heard Vince holding court with his old mates. 

The crowd surrounding Vince was so large, that Howard could only see the top of his head. Looked like nothing had changed after all. 

“And so then I went into the tunnel. And I thought I knew where I was going. But everything had been changed around,” Vince said. 

“What happened?” the boy who had been wearing the ruff, but now wore a top hat, asked.

“Well, I was tryin’ to figure out what to do next, when I heard footsteps behind me,” Vince said, adopting the hushed tones of an expert storyteller. “But when I turned around, there was no one there.” 

It seemed like Vince was happy where he was. He had all his mates back. Howard walked past the crowd, there was no point in trying to get Vince’s attention. He’d only embarrass himself. 

But then he heard his name. 

“Howard!” Vince yelled. “Howard! Where ya been?”

The crowd turned to face Howard. “Oh. Uh. Hi,” Howard said.

The crowd stood in dead silence, waiting for the signal to attack. 

“Vince, who is this loser?” Tophat Boy asked.

Howard closed his eyes, bracing for the “I don’t know” or the “just some weirdo”, but Vince didn't say any of that.

“He ain’t a loser,” Vince said, he poked the Tophat Boy in the chest. “Thas my best friend. And he’s way cooler than you could ever be. He’s brilliant. You’re the loser.” He scowled at the Tophat Boy then turned his back on him. “Come on, Howard, let’s get out of here.” Vince grabbed Howard’s hand and dragged him away.

“You didn’t have to do all that,” Howard said, his cheeks burning. He hadn’t thought it possible to feel both embarrassed and pleased at the same time. 

“Course I did,” Vince said. “They’re well borin’ anyway. I was just waitin’ around until you got here.”

“Oh,” Howard said, he couldn’t control the smile spreading across his face. “Wow. Well that’s--” 

“And guess what!” Vince interrupted. “I found us another adventure! There’s a guy, who’s a guitar, and he lives in the mountains, and if you strum him, you become a rock god. Want to go?”

“What? No. We just got back from an adventure. We almost died!” Howard said. 

“But we didn’t!” Vince said. “We’re on a roll. Nothing can stop us now. Come on, Howard!”

“Ohh, I don’t know,” Howard said. 

“For the sake of the band!” Vince said.

“We have a band?” Howard asked.

“Course we got a band, wot you talkin’ about, ‘do we have a band?’, we’ve definitely got a band,” Vince said.

“Well, what’s this band called?” Howard asked. A sly smirk spreading across his face. “Because I can’t be in a band that doesn’t have a name. It’s in the Big Book of Band Rules, right next to never anger the rhythm section.”

Vince’s eyes darted around. 

“So?” Howard asked. “Do we have a name or not?” He raised an eyebrow severely. 

“Uhhh.The Mighty...” Vince cast his gaze around, his eyes settled on a bush. “Boosh.”

“The Mighty Boosh. What on earth does that mean?” Howard said. Of course, leave it to Vince to come up with something that stupid. Though it was bizarrely catchy, but he would never admit to Vince or he’d never hear the end of it. 

Don’t mean anything, but it’s cool,” Vince said. 

“Is it though?”

“Yeah, course it is. You’d know that if you had any taste,” Vince said, grinning cheekily, a challenge written into his very posture. 

“Listen hear you bushbaby…”

**The End**


End file.
